


Silent Vigil

by Mother_North



Series: Dark Matter [6]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Camaraderie, Caretaking, Masturbation, Other, Sex Toys, Smut, Sort of PWP, Tenderness, Understanding, Vibrators, but with some psychology involved, not as scary as it may seem, unspoken feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 12:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14378418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_North/pseuds/Mother_North
Summary: Akira Kikuchi wouldn’t trade the silent vigil of his for the world.





	Silent Vigil

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I’ll be brief this time: sorry not sorry ;)  
> Usual RPF disclaimer applies to this work of fiction in full and it is not meant to offend anyone.

**

Akira Kikuchi watches Yuzuru glide across the white expanse of the ice — a dark figure that magnetizes the air around and pulls everyone’s gazes. The old man is recording each move, each breath, each heartbeat. He treasures his role as an ever present, silent and loyal servant. He knows all of the unspoken rules and spoken boundaries which he had been told not to cross. Akira Kikuchi _knows_ the young man he accompanies to all of the tournaments like the back of his hand: he can read Yuzuru like an open book with his impenetrable keen eyes, scan his gestures and facial expressions to perceive what he might possibly need even before it had to be put into words. It’s interesting that syllables between the two of them had always seemed a bit clumsy and were hanging in the space heavily, the impotence of disability to convey the whole extent of the hidden meaning always palpable. Not that Akira had ever minded their tacit camaraderie and he knew that Yuzuru valued it too, letting the man as close to himself as possible for an introverted, hyper-aware and super-motivated intense perfectionist with a penchant for overthinking. Yuzuru had to have _complete_ control: from the way he smiled casually to the way his delicate yet strong fingers squeezed the yellow-red plushness of his famous lucky charm.

Akira never asked inconvenient questions, never stayed in Yuzuru’s presence longer than it was absolutely necessary, he never judged or imposed his opinions. He didn’t speak first because he didn’t need to. But he was a constant quiet shadow that supervised and guarded and carried its vigil without being a hindrance or a tiring supernumerary element in Yuzuru’s everyday thought-through and meticulously organized existence.

The old man remembered _the boy_ he had met in the city of Sendai, the city which they both were destined to leave behind in pursuit of Yuzuru’s dreams and his never ending quest for supremacy and _Absolute_ which he deemed he was capable of not only reaching but _surpassing_. The moment Kikuchi glimpsed into a bottomless abyss of the young boy’s eyes he knew Yuzuru was the one who could make the impossible happen, for the adamant determination verging on recklessness which he saw there had hardly left any doubts.

_He witnessed hunger that made his chest tight._

Many a time Akira watched Yuzuru soar and he used to catch himself thinking of _Icarus_ , whose wings got burned and who crashed against the hard soil so cruelly…But he kept repeating at heart that Yuzuru himself _was the sun_ and so he prayed to gods known and unknown that the night would never come, while doing all he could to postpone the impending of twilights.

The old man loved the boy sincerely and cared for him deeply: he was standing humbly, watching Yuzuru’s back at the heady moments of his triumphs and he was by his side at times of his break downs too, when _the bird’s_ wings were clipped and needed to be knitted up anew. Akira admired his young ward to no end and he considered himself being lucky to be chosen to carry the burden of unconditional support and selfless loyalty.

Akira knew by heart which computer games Yuzuru liked to play and names of all of the models in Yuzuru’s extensive earbuds collection. He could tell by the smallest crease between his eyebrows that he had had a sleepless night while being stuck in front of his laptop — _watching_ over and over again and _analyzing_ obsessively each of his steps and jumps and spins. Sometimes the old man saw the overwhelming, all-engulfing _solitude_ of the life Yuzuru had to lead as a genius prodigy, whose status was quickly approaching that of a living and breathing deity.

_It’s always lonely when you are gazing down from a peak of the highest mountain._

Akira wondered how Yuzuru’s fragile shoulders were not collapsing beneath the weight of endless expectations and suffocating desire to expand the limits of what everyone thought possible. The young man’s insatiable thirst to move _further_ , to go _beyond_ ; it scared and fascinated simultaneously and Akira often had to avert his look not _to be melt_ by the intensity of the two smoldering embers in the onyx eyes of the one he cared for the most.

Sometimes Akira missed his life in Sendai terribly, his comfortable and unpretentious dwelling which used to fill him with irreplaceable sense of inner balance and tranquility, only a place called _home_ was able to provide. He remembered the _air itself_ there — the way it smelled of salty sea breeze and fresh pines. He was shied of, dear to his heart, tender jingle of a wind chime at the front porch of his house and every time he imagined its pure sound, it washed his soul over with a surge of bittersweet homesickness. He realized clearly that it was his own choice after all and while looking at Yuzuru smiling at him with unbridled gratefulness, Akira regretted it not a drop.     

The thought of not being useful anymore and of having to step away and ceasing to be a part of the young man’s daily routine pierced Kikuchi’s heart like a poisoned thorn. He knew _the day_ would come in all of its merciless inevitability but, for now, Akira did his best to chase the anxiety of being left out away, calling himself an _old fool_ for the inability of imagining his life without Yuzuru as a fixed _constant_ in it.

The training session had finally come to an end and Yuzuru had to be practically dragged away from the ice, his body overstrained and trembling from exhaustion, his whole countenance bristling with stubbornness and basking in his own self-destructive disability of stopping in time, for once. Brian looked as dark as a cloud, standing by Akira’s side, his blue eyes throwing daggers at Yuzuru because his extremely talented and just as _equally_ headstrong disciple had been ignoring his signals of _“enough for today”_ entirely for the past hour or so.  

“My quad loop is not good…Not good!”

Yuzuru pouted capriciously, his head tilted in defiance, throwing a pair of his black gloves for Kikuchi to catch and storming to the changing rooms, after having shaken Brian’s hand in the most formal and detached of ways.

“I love him but sometimes he acts like he needs some good spanking.”

Brian shook his head and after letting out an exasperated sigh and earning a sympathetic look from Kikuchi, headed to his cabinet to have a brief, much needed, break.

Akira was sitting at the table in the refreshment room wordlessly, looking at Yumi’s careful attempts to make her son eat something, a bowl of rice untouched in front of him. Her voice was quiet and concerned and her entreaties were soft-spoken, laced with motherly feeling of such magnitude it looked frightening to Kikuchi. Yuzuru’s fingers were fidgeting, playing with glassy beads of his bracelet nervously as he was worrying his lower lip in a barely concealed irritation. He yanked his hand away from Yumi when she tried to get hold of his fingers as if a mere touch could scald him. Akira stared at Yuzuru’s face, his eyes gleaming dimly behind his glasses, noticing the unmistakably wound-up state Yuzuru was in, each of his pores oozing dissatisfaction.

A little knowing smile twisted Akira’s thin lips.  

“I think I may be of a help, Yumi-san. There is no need to worry that much. Please, let your son have a _séance of massage_ before going home. I think it is exactly what he needs. What would you say? ”

Yuzuru’s eyes darted up, his pale cheeks blooming with the tenderest of pink. He didn’t utter a thing and only started to attack the previously deserted rice with his chopsticks aggressively.

“I think you are right, Kikuchi-san. Thank you.”

Yumi nodded and Akira smiled silently.

**

Kikuchi knew that Yuzuru was not a virgin. He never indulged himself too much, though, wanting to keep his focus as sharp as possible, while preserving a state of absolute concentration but his youthful body had its needs which had to be taken into consideration. Yuzuru didn’t want any complications, which starting a romantic relationship would surely entail, at this particularly important stage of his competitive career, always preferring _cold surface of the_ _ice_ over anyone else. Approximately several times a month or rarer Yuzuru had private trysts with some of the highly paid professionals who had _top secrecy_ as one of their major priorities. He managed to freak out still, dreading the possibility of someone finding out _something_ that contradicted his well-calculated image of an asexual saint. There was always a subconscious nagging fear at the back of his mind that his inclinations or specific preferences would be discovered and leaked to the media in all of their unholy glory. Yuzuru dreaded it terribly and it often lowered a degree of gratification he got, his troublous reason hindering yearnings of his flesh.

_Akira was no one to judge him but sometimes he was the one to help._

**

Kikuchi was standing by a massage table with his hands folded calmly in front of him, his facial expression inscrutable, as Yuzuru walked into a room, locking the door behind him with a single quiet _click_. He was naked except for a white towel draped around his narrow hips, his gaze downcast and a small vein at his neck beating visibly an accelerated staccato. Kikuchi motioned for him to come closer and Yuzuru climbed on the massage table obediently, lying down on his stomach and letting his arms fall at his sides loosely. His dark hair at the nape was damp and his skin smelled of freshness faintly after a shower he had just taken.

Akira sighed applying some of the transparent oil to his hands, a pleasant scent of vanilla and lime spilling itself in the warm air. He poured some of the thick liquid on Yuzuru’s back too and a barely perceptive shiver that immediately ran down the young man’s spine didn’t escape him.

He knew what Yuzuru needed and he would give him just that.

Kikuchi’s experienced hands were massaging Yuzuru’s tensed shoulders gently yet firmly, working at all of the strained knots, making taut muscles tremble beneath his strong fingers. Yuzuru’s breath hitched as Akira’s hands moved lower, all the way down his spine without a haste, no sensitive spots forgotten and each of his protruding vertebras getting deliberate and prolonged attention. Tension was seeping out of Yuzuru’s body with each slow and soothing motion of the man’s palms as he was sighing contentedly into the sheet, trusting himself completely to Kikuchi.

Akira was kneading the small of Yuzuru’s back masterfully, eliciting a string of quiet appreciative moans out of his parted lips, his nimble fingers playing the young man’s body like a flute without a single false note. Kikuchi noticed the way Yuzuru’s fingers began crumpling the cloth as he let his palms slide down to Yuzuru’s shins and then all the way up to the sensitive skin of his thighs, the white towel being an obvious obstacle now. Yuzuru was breathing hard and a tremor of unmistakable anticipation ran through his awakening body as Akira took away the wiper. Yuzuru’s flawless skin was glistening with oil, each alluring curve and immaculate line exposed before Kikuchi’s darkly burning gaze. All of a sudden, he froze, depriving Yuzuru’s heated body of his skilled touch.

“You want me to continue or shall I stop?”

Not that Akira had any doubts about what the answer would be.

“You may… continue.”

Yuzuru’s voice sounded smothered against the sheets and Akira knew there was no way in the world he would turn his head to meet his eyes directly at the moment.

The first touch of Kikuchi’s palms to Yuzuru’s perfect asscheeks was solid while remaining tender at the same time, applying just the right amount of pressure to all the right places, his hands moving with purpose. He squeezed and stroked leisurely, making Yuzuru squirm, as his breathing grew audibly ragged.

Finally, he let his fingers slid in between, rubbing at the tight ring of muscles teasingly. Yuzuru’s hips jerked and he couldn’t bite back a distinctly needy moan, his skin flushed and seemingly glowing from sweat.

Kikuchi plunged two of his slicked fingers all the way in, starting to thrust deeply, his pace languid but demanding, exploring Yuzuru’s delicious tightness cunningly. Unabashed sounds Yuzuru was making urged him to quicken his rhythm and soon he felt the young man flutter around his penetrating fingers, as Yuzuru’s hips were rising to meet each movement of his hand, impaling himself on his digits shamelessly. Akira was brushing his prostate lightly, deliberately avoiding a proper contact and it made Yuzuru wiggle desperately, driving him wild from the need to be thoroughly filled, aching to feel the delightful burn of a perfect stretch.

_please please please_

Yuzuru’s breathless prayers didn’t fall on deaf ears and the next moment he felt a cool smoothness of a tip pressing at his opening — one of his new toys, a ribbed vibrator which he had ordered online anonymously after having diligently studied all of its reviews. Yuzuru bit his bottom lip, shivering from the thrill of heady anticipation coursing through his whole body. He willed himself to relax, feeling the toy being inserted inside slowly, filling him up inch by inch, his chest heaving erratically as his fingers dug into the sheets hard.

When Akira’s thumb pushed _the small button_ at the handle Yuzuru nearly screamed, his legs spreading on their own accord obscenely, eyes rolling beneath his tightly closed eyelids, waves of torturously acute pleasure washing over him mercilessly. The tip was vibrating right against his most sensitive spot, setting his entire being aflame as he started to keen softly, tremors of ecstasy wrecking his body. He was trying to muffle his cries into the sheets, as his hips were buckling violently, trying to escape the sensations which quickly became _too overwhelming in their intensity_ to handle. Kikuchi’s commanding hand wouldn’t let him, though.   

Akira was watching Yuzuru fall apart stoically, his face an unreadable mask. He cleansed his mind of all of the treacherous “ _what ifs_ ”, not letting them spoil the sinful beauty of the vision his eyes were drinking in. Yuzuru was clenching around the toy convulsively as he peaked, _vicious_ pleasure tearing his shuddering body apart in punishing consecutive tides, which refused to subside till it became practically _unbearable_ — hot tears springing from his eyes and streaming down his porcelain cheeks, mouth falling open in a silent scream.

_A whirlwind of carnal agony was unfurling itself in front of Kikuchi’s unwavering stare._

Yuzuru was sobbing quietly as Kikuchi pulled the vibrator out. He ran a soothing hand over Yuzuru’s moist skin gingerly, his gesture full of unspoken tenderness. The young man recoiled from his touch, still too sensitive and raw. Akira took the wet towel, urging Yuzuru to turn over to his back gently, so he could clean him in due course. Yuzuru obeyed, licking his scarlet and slightly swollen lips and lying completely motionless with his eyes purposely shut and brows knitted in concentration, as Kikuchi tended him with the utmost of care.

Akira didn’t need hearing _any_ words nor looking into Yuzuru’s eyes at that particular moment — as voiceless affection, never to be spoken of, was raging in his lively heart of an old man.

He wouldn’t trade this silent vigil of his for the world.

**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Your feedback is appreciated.


End file.
